Hunter's Moon
by CaroH
Summary: There is an assassin in town. Will the Musketeers be able to stop him before he completes his mission?
1. Chapter 1

This story is set immediately after Through a Glass Darkly.

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter One**

"They threw you out of a window?" Athos asked. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Just my natural good fortune. I landed on the canopy over the entrance." Aramis was alive but not unscathed by his misadventure. His head throbbed and his leg had started to spasm at the most inconvenient moments.

"I knew you were going to be okay," Porthos said, pouring wine into their glasses.

"Your faith in me is touching, my dear Porthos." Aramis laid a hand over his heart and inclined his head in a brief bow.

"What about you and Rochefort?" d'Artagnan asked.

"What about us? Bastard dislocated my shoulder and enjoyed doing it." He rubbed his sore joint before draining his glass and pouring a refill.

"He's a strange one," d'Artagnan said. Ever since their rescue and Constance's public display of affection he had been grinning broadly much to the amusement of his companions.

"Said it was the thought of a woman that got him through his imprisonment in Spain. I never would have taken him for a romantic."

"He's in love with the Queen," Athos said. He met his companions' stunned stares. "It's obvious from the way he acts around her." His gaze lingered on Aramis who quickly looked away.

"Then we'd best keep an eye on him. Despite appearances he's no friend to the King," Porthos said.

"It appears, though, that he has thoroughly ingratiated himself," Aramis mused. "He's the only one to come out of this fiasco with any credit. It appears that nothing we do is good enough for the King."

"I never thought I'd say this but I feel sorry for Milady. She risked her life and the King cast her off." D'Artagnan looked at Athos to gauge his reaction.

"Whatever else she might be, she is courageous." Athos met the look with equanimity.

"You sound like you admire her," Porthos said.

"I loved her once. When I found out that she had become the Cardinal's creature I despised her but her actions today took bravery and, as a soldier, I can admire that." He didn't feel the need to share the fact that his admiration was tinged with something else…something he didn't even want to admit to himself.

"What about you and Constance?" Aramis asked d'Artagnan.

"I don't know. I'd come to terms with being no more than friends and now it's all changed."

"Bonacieux won't take it well," Aramis said.

"I don't care about him."

"He will never release her," Athos warned. "He loves her in his own way."

"Being together is enough."

"The Queen could dismiss her. It is a scandal," Athos said, signalling one of the tavern wenches to bring them more wine.

"The Queen is a good woman and she is fond of Constance. I believe she will stand by her."

Even over the noise in the tavern the sound of a pistol firing was distinctive. One minute Aramis was drinking wine with his friends. The next he was bleeding over the table. After a moment of stunned silence he pressed his left hand over the wound in the upper part of his right arm. All three of his friends were on their feet, pistols in hand, visually scouring their surroundings for the attacker. There was complete panic in their immediate vicinity with men and women cowering down or running toward the exit. A woman screamed; a harsh wailing sound which ended when someone slapped her face.

"Go," Athos said. "I will tend to Aramis."

Porthos and d'Artagnan immediately rushed into the crowd, eyes ranging from side to side as they pushed their way toward the door.

"How bad is it?" Athos asked. He tugged on the arm of Aramis' coat, eliciting a sharp hiss from his friend.

"A glancing hit, I believe." Aramis had paled with the shock of the sudden and unexpected attack but his voice was steady.

Once Athos had manoeuvered him out of his coat it was easier to see the damage. His white shirt was stained with blood and there was a ragged hole in the sleeve. Athos tore at the material and then sighed in relief.

"The ball did not enter your arm although it has ploughed quite a furrow. Innkeeper," he shouted over the continued noise of fascinated speculation. "Bring hot water and clean towels." His fierce scowl persuaded those closest to them to mind their own business.

"I'm really not having a good day," Aramis said wryly.

"It could be worse," Athos said. "You could be dead."

The innkeeper arrived with a bowl of water and a stack of towels. "Will he be alright? This isn't good for business, you know. Can't have my patrons being shot in my establishment."

"You're concern does you credit," Athos said with a thin edge of sarcasm. "Bring us a bottle of brandy as well."

The innkeeper looked at him speculatively. "Can you afford to pay for it?"

Athos straightened from where he'd been examining Aramis' arm. "We are King's Musketeers, monsieur. I suggest you do as I say before I start questioning what you know about his unprovoked attack."

Not many men could stare Athos down when he chose to employ the haughty manners of his former life as the Comte de la Fere. The innkeeper was no fool and immediately backed down, bowing before hurrying away.

Athos immediately dismissed him from his mind and dipped one of the towels in the water. "Hold still. This will hurt."

Aramis sucked in a pained breath but didn't move as Athos wiped away the dirt and blood. The innkeeper brought the bottle of brandy, slamming it down on the table to show his displeasure. Athos ignored him, pouring a generous measure into a cup and then soaking a towel in it.

"Drink," he advised.

Aramis needed to no urging to down the fiery liquid. It helped to relax him but did nothing for the burning pain in his arm. He whimpered when Athos pressed the towel against the wound then bit his lip in an effort to keep in the sounds of distress. He had his pride and was aware of the interested stares of the men sitting at the tables close by.

"Hold this in place for as long as you can," Athos advised.

Aramis nodded and pressed his palm over the towel. The wound was still bleeding sluggishly and his knew that was good because it would help to wash away the dirt. In many cases it was the oil and gunpowder that coated the ball that did the most damage.

It wasn't long before they were rejoined by Porthos and d'Artagnan, both exuding a mixture of anger and concern.

"Well?" Athos asked. "Did you find him?"

"Not a sign of anyone suspicious. We need to ask around. See if anyone saw who pulled the trigger." Porthos gave a reassuring squeeze to Aramis' shoulder. "You alright?"

"Nothing but a scratch," Aramis assured him. "No stitches required and I will be fit for duty tomorrow."

"I doubt that," Athos said. "We will have to report this to Treville and, coupled with your other injuries, I suspect he will have you on light duties for a few days."

"Any idea who might want to shoot you?" D'Artagnan asked. "Jealous husbands? Outraged fathers?"

"Not that I can think of." Aramis suddenly thought of Marguerite. He had been so relieved to find the Queen and his son unharmed that he had made a potentially fatal mistake with his reaction. He'd seen how she had looked at him with suspicion, particularly in that glorious moment when he had been able to cradle his son in his arms. However, he didn't see her resorting to violence even if she was feeling spurned by his lack of attentiveness. "Besides, whoever it was did not shoot to kill I think."

"That could be a fatal assumption," Athos said somberly. "The tavern is busy. It wouldn't be easy to get a clean shot. You must be on your guard."

"You should go back to the garrison." Porthos was looking around, alert for any further threat to his friend. "Athos can go with you. D'Artagnan and I will stay here to ask some questions."

Both Musketeers were fully conscious of their surroundings on the short walk back to the garrison. They heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary but there was still a sense of relief once they were safely inside.

"We can report this to the Captain tomorrow," Athos said.

"Report what?"

They looked up to see Treville on the balcony. Aramis noted that the Captain looked more serious than normal.

"Never mind. It will keep," Treville said with a hint of impatience in his voice. "Aramis, I need to speak to you."

Aramis exchanged a concerned look with Athos before climbing the stairs and entering Treville's office. "Sir?"

"Close the door. I have some news for you and you're not going to like it."

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Two**

Aramis stepped out of Treville's office and into the suffocating warmth of the late night air. Sweat began to trickle down his back and bead his forehead. He walked slowly down the stairs, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg. Athos was waiting for him in the yard, sitting at their usual table. Aramis slid into a seat opposite him. He was immeasurably weary, the events of the day crashing down around him. His body ached and his soul was heavy with the news the Captain had imparted to him.

"What did Treville want?"

Aramis studied his hands for a minute before looking up. "The Duke of Savoy arrives in Paris in two days for a private visit."

"What does he want?"

"Apparently now that the Cardinal is dead the Duke believes that he can renegotiate his treaty with France."

"I don't see Louis being in a receptive mood, particularly after the difficulties of recent months."

"The King is in a sour mood but at least this will give him some other target for his spleen than the Musketeers. There is no love lost between him and the Duke." Aramis removed his hat and gloves, setting them carefully on the table. His hands were shaking so he placed them out of sight on his lap. "The Captain wants to see you after breakfast."

"He's not going to order us to babysit Savoy again is he?"

"He didn't confide in me."

"Aramis…"

Aramis stood up, unwilling to have the conversation that Athos was undoubtedly planning. "It has been a difficult day. I think I will retire to my bed. We can discuss this in the morning."

"Your wounds?"

"Painful without being debilitating. Treville had put me on light duties."

Athos sighed in relief. "So you won't be going to the Palace?"

Aramis' smile was grim and without any humour. "I didn't get the chance to look the Duke in the eye during his last visit. This time I'm not giving up the chance to see the man who murdered my brothers. I will be fit enough by the time he arrives."

"That's a bad idea, Aramis."

"Tomorrow, my friend. We will discuss this tomorrow."

Athos watched his brother depart and then made up his mind. He climbed the stairs and knocked on Treville's door.

"Come."

He removed his hat and entered the room. "Do you have a minute, Captain?"

"I am not longer your captain, Athos. I told you earlier that I am just here on sufferance until the King appoints my replacement."

"Until that day happens we all look to you to lead us."

Treville opened the bottom drawer of his desk and drew out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. "Sit." He poured them each a generous measure and slouched back in his seat. "What do you want?"

"Order Aramis to stay away from Savoy."

"I would if I thought he'd listen to me. It was bad enough the last time. Now that Marsac is dead Aramis feels duty bound to face the Duke."

"He means to challenge him?" Athos asked, alarmed at the prospect.

"I don't believe so. I think he just feels the need to do his duty despite his anger about the massacre."

Athos sipped the brandy, allowing its warmth to chase away the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Someone shot Aramis tonight. Do you think it could have something to do with this visit?"

"He told me although he tried to dismiss the incident as unimportant. How badly was he hurt?"

"A deep graze to the arm. It is unclear if the intent was to wound or to kill. Porthos and d'Artagnan are questioning the patrons of the tavern where it happened. Now with this news of the Duke's visit I wonder if there is a connection."

"The incident is troublesome but I doubt if the Duke is behind it. As far as I know he isn't aware of Aramis' existence let alone his connection to the massacre. Even if he had found out that there were survivors why would he come after Aramis now? The attackers were masked. There is no reason to suspect that Aramis knows who they were."

"You are probably right." Nonetheless the coincidental timing bothered him.

"Are you sure Aramis was the intended target?"

"We have assumed so but, you're right, it could have been any one of us."

"Be on your guard."

"Always." Athos drained his glass and stood up. "Good night, Sir."

"Report to me in the morning. We have plans to make for the Duke's arrival and I don't intend to give the King any further reason to criticise the Musketeers."

Athos inclined his head in acknowledgement, replaced his hat and left, no more comforted than when he had arrived.

TMTMTM

Aramis laid his weapons on the bed and unwound his sash. His arm gave a twinge of protest when he flexed it in order to remove his coat. He studied the ragged hole in the sleeve which would have to be patched before he next attended at the Palace. His shirt was fused to his skin by dried blood and he carefully eased it away before pulling it over his head. The wound was no longer bleeding although it was extremely tender to the touch. He crossed to the dresser to collect some salve and a length of bandage. He hissed through his teeth when he applied the salve and it stung painfully.

His other injuries were also making themselves known. He touched the back of his head, running gentle fingers down the laceration to his scalp caused by the glass of the window he'd been pushed through. His back ached but his most troublesome wound was to his leg. In landing on the canopy he must have twisted his leg, pulling the muscles out of their normal alignment. Although nothing was broken he had been left with a severe sprain which could take many days to resolve. He had been economical with the truth when describing his injuries to Treville. The whole truth would have seen him confined to barracks for at least a week.

He removed his boots and breaches and lay down on his bad. Despite his exhaustion he knew that sleep would be elusive. The events of the massacre were clear as day in his mind. Their attackers had come silently in the night, killing with ruthless efficiency. However, it wasn't the events of six years ago that troubled him. It was his decision to shoot Marsac to save the life of the man who had unwittingly betrayed them. Marsac had been broken, that much was true. His obsession had ripped the sanity from his mind, leaving him alive but not living. Some said that Aramis' decision to pull the trigger had been an act of kindness. He could never see it that way.

He rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes. Memories of the day just ended crowded around him, enveloping him in a blanket of sights, sounds and sensations. He could still feel the disorientation of tumbling through the air, the moment of blind panic when he realized that nothing could save him from falling to his death. There hadn't even been time to regret the fact that he would never see the Queen and his son again. Then there had been overwhelming relief when he found them alive and unharmed. If it hadn't been for Marguerite's presence he would have taken Anne in his arms and never let go. The subsequent fight against Marmion's minions had been brief and unsatisfying and it had been frustrating when Rochefort took the credit for the rescue.

He tossed restlessly onto his back. The attack at the tavern didn't feel real to him yet despite the throbbing pain in his arm. And now everything had been overshadowed by the news that the Duke of Savoy was coming to Paris. His friends would worry about him, perhaps would even try to talk him out of making an appearance at the palace. Could he face Savoy and keep his equanimity? He fantasised about confronting the Duke and accusing him of his crimes. It made his heart race faster with excitement even though he knew that he could never risk it. Who would believe a lowly Musketeer, particularly in the absence of proof? Not even the death of twenty-one men was worth the price of a diplomatic fiasco. He'd heard about Athos' sword fight with Victor and it had warmed him to know that his brother had been only a heartbeat away from taking revenge despite that fact that it would have meant his own death for killing a sovereign lord. If he had been in Athos' position he would gladly have thrust his sword through the Duke's black heart and be damned to the consequence.

His eyes opened of their own accord and he stared toward the ceiling. His body craved rest and yet his mind still refused to settle. In the end he would do his duty as a Musketeer. He would stand in the same room as Savoy knowing the truth and would hold that truth inside himself. There would be no vengeance however much he might wish it. He would do nothing to bring disgrace on the regiment and would eventually go to his grave knowing that he had allowed a murderer to escape justice.

TMTMTM

"I can't believe no-one saw anything," d'Artagnan said as he and Porthos left the tavern.

"No-one would admit to it, more likely," Porthos said, his voice tight with frustration. "There's no way someone shoots a man in a crowded room without bein' seen."

"Why would anyone want to shoot Aramis?"

"That's the question, isn't it? If we knew the answer we'd know who to kill."

"Do you think he's alright?"

"It was just a flesh would luckily." Porthos gingerly rotated his sore shoulder. "Damn that hurts."

"You should see a physician."

"Nothin' a doctor can do about it. It isn't the first time I've dislocated it. The pain'll pass soon."

They reached the garrison to find it deserted except for Athos. "Did you find anything out?"

"No-one was talkin'. Where's Aramis?"

"In bed, although I doubt if he's sleeping. There's something I need to tell you. The Duke of Savoy is returning to Paris. It was the last thing Aramis needed to hear. We will have to watch over him carefully."

"Why's that bastard comin' here?" Porthos asked venomously.

"He thinks to take advantage of Richelieu's death. He knows the King is weak and indecisive and undoubtedly will try to blackmail France with a threat to align himself with Spain."

"He's reckoned without Rochefort then," Porthos said. "I wouldn't be surprised to see him named First Minister soon."

"Now that is a frightening thought." D'Artagnan began to yawn convulsively. "I think I'm ready for bed too."

"We should all get some sleep," Athos said. "Tomorrow we have to try and talk some sense into Aramis."

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Three**

Aramis didn't appear for breakfast. After they had finished, Athos despatched Porthos to check on their missing brother while he reported to Treville.

"This is a private visit," the Captain said. "That means there will be no reception for the Duke and he'll have to wait around until the King decides to grant him an audience. Until that time he will try to influence the King's council and will generally be a nuisance."

"I assume he is coming without the King's blessing."

"That's likely. I don't imagine the King wants to reopen the discussions. He scored a significant victory over the Duke last time. The terms of the treaty are very favourable to France. Richelieu did an excellent job."

"What do you need us to do?"

"We can't risk having him wandering around Paris asking questions. It would be a diplomatic disaster if he were to find proof of Cluzet's imprisonment. He is to have a Musketeer escort at all times. You will meet him on the road and stay with him until he leaves."

"What about Aramis?"

"He is on light duties today in the armoury. After that…" Treville shrugged. "He has every right to face Savoy and I'd feel better if he was with the three of you. We don't know if there is someone out there with murderous intentions."

"Then keep him in the garrison."

"For how long? He has duties to attend to. We can't keep him locked up."

"How can we find the man who shot him if we're guarding the Duke of Savoy?" Athos asked reasonably.

"Your duty to France comes before any personal concerns. I'm not unsympathetic but you are my best men and the stability of France rests upon the success of this visit. We can't risk Savoy allying with Spain."

"I understand."

"Good. Make arrangements to leave at dawn. Victor is spending the night at the Chateau de Fontainebleau. You should meet up with him well before he reaches the outskirts of Paris."

"Sir." Athos stood smartly to attention before turning to leave the room.

"Athos. Take care of him."

Athos didn't need any elaboration to know who Treville meant. "We will."

TMTMTM

"You should stay in bed," Porthos said to his sleep-deprived friend.

Aramis looked pale and exhausted and was moving very stiffly with a slight limp. "I will be alright." He looked at his coat and decided against wearing it. He made a mental note to visit the leatherworker later. "I will be in the armoury all day taking inventory and checking the condition of the weapons. It is hardly strenuous. Now, my friend, tell me how you feel this morning. Is your shoulder still painful?"

"A slight aching is all."

Aramis raised an eyebrow in an expression of scepticism. "Take care with it today." He settled his hat on his head and picked up his gloves. "Did you discover anything at the tavern?" He opened the door and ushered Porthos out.

"Nothin' of any use. You need to be careful, Aramis."

Aramis led the way to the yard where he bowed with his hand over his heart. "Your concern is touching. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Do not worry."

"I do worry." Porthos put out a hand to stop him from leaving. "Stay in the garrison today."

"My coat needs mending. It wouldn't do to meet the Duke of Savoy with a bullet hole in my sleeve." His calm façade began to crumble at the mention of his mortal enemy but he quickly regained control.

"Call me when you're ready. I'll come with you."

"That won't be necessary. You have your own duties to attend to."

Porthos kept hold of Aramis' arm. "I want your word."

"Very well. Now, there is much to be done. I will see you later."

TMTMTM

Two hours later Athos strolled into the armoury with a plate full of bread and cheese. Aramis sat at the table, his fingers ink stained and with several lists scattered across the surface.

"You missed breakfast." Athos laid down the plate.

"Thank you." Aramis smiled briefly. He flexed his shoulders to work the kinks out of his spine and pulled the plate closer. "When do we leave to meet the Duke?"

"Dawn, but, Aramis, I think you should stay here."

"Treville has already agreed that I should be part of the guard."

"He would rescind that order if you asked."

"I have no intention of asking." Aramis' face was lined with pain but his eyes were clear and direct. "I lived for five years not knowing who to blame for the murder of my brothers. When Marsac returned and told me the truth I vowed that I would one day look in the face of the man who led the massacre. Please don't ask me to forego that chance."

Athos pulled up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the table. Aramis' naked plea had touched a nerve with him and he found his resolve faltering.

"Tell me, Athos, if you were in my place what would you do?"

"I would want to kill him and I don't know if I would have the strength to conceal that fact. When he and I fought it was all I could do to pull back even though I didn't entirely believe Marsac's tale."

"And I honour you for that. I might want the Duke's blood." His eyes darkened as he grappled with the memory of that night in the forest. "I do want his blood," he amended. "But it will never happen. No-one will hold the Duke of Savoy to account for the death of a troop of Musketeers."

"Will you give me your oath that you won't confront him?"

Aramis gripped the crucifix around his neck. "I only want to meet him. I will not provoke a diplomatic incident."

It was less than Athos was comfortable with but more than he had expected. "I accept your word."

"Thank you." Aramis' shoulders slumped and he gave a sigh. "I have much to do."

"You should see a physician."

"There is no need. My injuries will resolve themselves without treatment."

"Not without rest."

"I am resting."

Athos shook his head in exasperation. "Don't overdo it."

"I won't."

"We haven't spoken yet about last night."

"That is a mystery." Aramis briefly touched the bandage on his arm. "If someone truly means me harm there is only one way to find him."

Athos had already come to that unpalatable conclusion. "Give him a target," he said.

"Precisely."

"It's dangerous."

"Would you have me cower in the garrison for the rest of my life?" Aramis asked. "We face danger every day. This is no different."

"That is true but you do not leave the garrison without at least one of use for company. We might have to dangle you as bait but you won't be unprotected."

TMTMTM

By lunch time Aramis' head was pounding due to the stifling conditions in which he was working. He rose from the table, provoking a twinge from his injured leg. His arm was the least troublesome of his injuries now that the burning pain had receded.

Work in the garrison had stopped for the noon meal. He sat at the table in the yard, basking in the warmth of the sun although he found his eyes closing against the bright light. Footsteps approached. He opened his eyes and looked up into d'Artagnan's smiling face.

"Good day, d'Artagnan."

"It is a good day." The younger man sat across from him.

"You have seen Constance?"

"Not yet. She is attending upon the Queen. I hope to spend some time with her before we leave."

"I am happy for you," Aramis said wistfully. "True love is a rare and precious gift." He couldn't help remembering the one perfect night spent with the Queen at the convent. During that brief bright interlude he had found that it wasn't just a physical attraction. For the first time in his life he was deeply and everlastingly in love.

"We must tell Bonacieux," d'Artagnan said, his smile slipping. "I wish she was free to marry."

"A divorce is out of the question."

"I know. Are we doing the right thing, Aramis?"

"There are risks. Her position at Court could be compromised although I do not believe the Queen will turn her back. You have seen how fond they are of each other." Not to mention the fact that Constance knew their secret. Aramis did not believe she would ever use that for leverage. She was too good a person.

"Our children will be bastards."

"There are many such in this town. It doesn't have to be an impediment."

"It just feels so right."

"I can see that. You will work things out." He looked around. "Where are Athos and Porthos?" He nodded his thanks to Serge who deposited two bowls of stew and a basket of bread in front of them. He found that he was surprisingly hungry.

"At the Palace. They'll be back this evening."

"Perhaps then you could accompany me to the leatherworkers. My coat requires repairs."

"Are you sure you should be leaving the garrison?"

"Will you all stop worrying!"

D'Artagnan dipped his spoon into the stew. "Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. "Of course I'll come."

"D'Artagnan." Treville strode across the yard. "Come and see me once you've finished eating. I have an urgent message to be delivered to the Palace."

"But, Captain, I have to go with Aramis…" Treville's scowl stopped his protests. "Yes, Sir."

Aramis smiled. "Wise choice, d'Artagnan. A soldier doesn't disobey orders."

"You will wait for my return?"

"I will be quite safe. The shop is only two streets away."

"Porthos is going to kill me if anything happens to you," d'Artagnan said unhappily.

Aramis dipped a piece of bread into his stew. "Nothing is going to happen. Relax."

They finished eating and parted company. Aramis collected his coat and weapons and left the garrison. The streets were crowded which slowed his progress. He nodded greetings to some acquaintances, all the time keeping his focus on his surroundings. He leg began to pain him as he walked over the uneven cobbles. He slowed further.

The roadway was partly blocked by a wagon loaded with beer barrels. Aramis stepped into the middle of the road to pass it. The horse stood with its head down, obviously taking the opportunity to rest while the wagon was unloaded. He continued walking. There were less people here and his progress was easier. He had almost reached his destination when he heard a horse screaming in pain. His movements were hampered by his injured leg but he turned as quickly as he could. His eyes widened in shock and his heart rate increased as he saw the driverless wagon hurtling straight towards him.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Four**

The horse and cart thundered towards him like an avenging angel. Aramis knew that he should move yet he was rooted to the spot standing right in the path of the horse. He was mere seconds away from being knocked down and trampled.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him backwards. The horse stampeded past with inches to spare, the wind of its passing ruffling his hair. Still in a state of shock he twisted round to see the face of his rescuer. The burly man behind him had arms the girth of tree trunks and wore a blacksmith's apron. It explained his strength.

Aramis' legs threatened to fail him as shock gave way to relief. "I owe you my life, Monsieur," he said shakily.

"No thanks needed," the man said, releasing his hold. "Couldn't stand by and watch you be killed."

Further down the road the horse had been brought under control but not, Aramis discovered, without casualties. A young man sat in the street moaning and cradling his broken arm. People were converging on him to give assistance. Close to him a woman lay in an ungainly heap, unmoving. Aramis pushed through the crowd and dropped to one knee to feel for a pulse. He shook his head in sorrow when he realised that she was dead.

He made the sign of the cross and kissed his crucifix before looking up. "Does anyone know this woman?"

"Aye, she's the wife of Munier, the baker."

"Someone should fetch her family."

He left them to their grief and continued on to the cart. The wagon master was there trying to sooth the horse. The animal was still unsettled, stamping its hooves and tossing its head. Aramis ran a gentle hand along its flank and then rounded the front to check the other side. He gasped when he saw a deep cut on its withers.

"This was deliberate," he said, knowing without any doubt that he had been the target.

"Who'd do such a thing?" the wagon master asked angrily.

"That is a good question." Aramis looked back and saw a man drop to his knees by the woman's body, tears streaming from his eyes. "And I intend to find the answer."

He continued with his errand in a state of distraction. He had undoubtedly just survived another assassination attempt. This time, though, someone else had lost their life. Concern for his personal safety was subsumed by anger against the coward who hid in the shadows instead of facing him directly. What kind of man risked the lives of innocents to achieve his goal? Collateral damage was common in war but these were the streets of Paris where men, women and children should be able to walk without fear.

When Aramis returned to the garrison he found that he was facing a different type of threat. His three friends had all returned and none of them looked happy. He sighed, resigned to an unpleasant interrogation.

"Where have you been?" Athos asked in a voice that was tight with anger.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't leave the garrison alone," Porthos said before Aramis could frame an answer.

"I told you…" he began weakly.

"How could you be so irresponsible?" Athos glared at him with an intensity that made him want to squirm.

"At least he's back safe," d'Artagnan offered, only to retreat under Porthos' thunderous stare.

"D'Artagnan is right, although there was an incident." He'd debated keeping the attack a secret but his friends needed to be fore-warned.

"What kind of incident?" Porthos asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I am quite well. Others were not so lucky."

"Sit down and tell us." Athos' anger had changed to deep concern.

"I'll fetch wine." D'Artagnan quickly walked away, returning moments later with a bottle and four glasses.

"What happened?" Porthos reached for the wine and poured a glass which he pressed into Aramis' hand.

"A driverless wagon. The horse had been deliberately cut to make it run amok. I was saved by the quick actions of a blacksmith." He drank deeply, thinking of the blank expression on the dead woman's face. "It hit a woman and killed her."

"It wasn't your fault," d'Artagnan said, squeezing Aramis' shoulder.

"If I had stayed in the garrison she would still be alive."

"We have to find the bastard's that's behind this," Porthos said.

"Easy to say." Aramis had control of his emotions now. "Harder to do when he hides his face from us."

"We have no time to investigate," Athos said in frustration. "We leave at dawn to meet Savoy. Are you sure you won't change your mind about coming with us?"

"I am likely to be safer outside Paris than within," Aramis said.

"That is open for debate," Athos replied.

"I have nothing to fear from Savoy."

"What if he's behind these attempts on your life?" d'Artagnan asked.

"The Duke of Savoy has no reason to harm me."

"He might have found out you know the truth of the attack six years ago." Porthos grabbed the bottle and poured more wine.

"I don't believe that is likely. Treville told no-one about Marsac."

"Not even the Cardinal?" d'Artagnan asked. "He had no love for the Musketeers. I could see him letting the information slip to the Duke."

"The Cardinal had been dead for months. No, I believe this threat comes from another source." Aramis stood up and settled his hat on his head.

"Where're you goin'" Porthos asked.

"To pay my respects to the family of the woman who died."

"I'm comin' with you."

Athos looked less than pleased at Aramis' decision but he made no objection. "Don't take too long," he cautioned.

Aramis retraced his steps to the scene of the accident, seeking information about the victim. After speaking to a few people he got directions to her home. It was a small house attached to a bakery and it was full to overflowing with mourners. They stood aside to allow the two Musketeers to enter the building, giving them curious looks.

The baker sat on a kitchen chair surrounded by his family and friends. Aramis swept off his hat and bowed. "Monsieur Munier, I am very sorry for your loss."

Munier looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. "You knew my wife?"

"I witnessed the accident. Alas, there was nothing anyone could do for her." He felt Porthos at his back offering quiet support. This woman had died in his place and the guilt was overwhelming.

"It was good of you to come," Munier said. "Will you stay and take a glass of wine with me?"

"We have no wish to intrude."

"Please."

A young woman hurried over, gave an awkward curtsey and offered wine to him and Porthos. Aramis capitulated. "It would be our honour." He raised the glass to his lips, not reacting to the rough vintage.

They stayed just long enough to be polite. On the way back to the garrison Porthos put his arm around Aramis' shoulder. "You did a good thing back there."

"Did I? It doesn't feel like it."

Porthos pulled him to a halt and looked earnestly into his eyes. "You can't be blamed for what happened."

"I blame myself. It seems that those around me are fated to get hurt or die."

"Stop thinkin' that way."

"I'm afraid I am melancholy company this evening, my friend. There is too much on my mind."

"It's this visit by the Duke that's got you all tied up in knots."

"I suppose it has. That, and the fact that some lunatic is trying to kill me." He gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Some weeks I think it would be safer to stay in bed."

"You'll get through it and we'll be watchin' your back every minute."

"It is that knowledge that gives me the strength to continue."

"Right then. How about a drink of decent wine before bed? I'm sure Athos has a bottle or two stashed away somewhere."

Aramis looked at his friend with sincere gratitude. "That sounds like the perfect cure for what ails me."

As expected Athos and d'Artagnan were waiting for them at the garrison. Athos easily acquiesced to the idea of liberating some of his wine and they settled down for a companionable evening. If Aramis spent a lot of the evening staring off into the distance no-one said anything. He deserved some time for introspection given that he was about to meet the man who was responsible for the murder of a troop of Musketeers.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

I managed to get another chapter done before I leave. It will be at least a month before I can post any further chapters of this story or Insurgency.

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Five**

Aramis was ready to ride well before dawn. He had spent another sleepless night grappling with memories of Savoy and the more recent death of an innocent woman that had been caused by his carelessness. His barely healing injuries contributed to his misery and the inability to get comfortable in bed. When he arrived in the yard he found his brothers there before him, waiting in silent vigil and offering the support of their presence. He felt tears prickling his eyes at their devotion.

"Are you sure about this?" Athos asked.

"Yes."

"Then let us get on the road."

The streets of Paris were never entirely deserted. They rode past men stumbling home from a night spent in a tavern and those who had risen early to go to work. Aramis was flanked by Porthos and d'Artagnan with Athos riding at the rear. All were on their guard against another sneak attack. Once they safely reached the open land at the outskirts of the city they relaxed a little although they never quite abandoned their vigilance.

Aramis rode slumped in the saddle, unusually silent and withdrawn. From the gloomy miasma in the air that surrounded them they might have been on their way to a funeral. That, Athos mused, wasn't far from the truth when you considered the atrocity perpetrated by the Duke of Savoy.

They were about an hour from Paris when they saw the Duke's small convoy approaching. He was accompanied by his First Minister, Gontard, and four members of his palace guard. Athos saw the tension forming in Aramis' body. The marksman slowed his horse, allowing the others to overtake him. In answer to Athos' questioning look he shook his head and pulled his hat lower to shade his eyes.

The Savoy soldiers spurred forward to stand between the Duke and the Musketeers. Athos drew his horse to a halt and waited. It didn't take long for the Duke to push past his guards to confront him.

"Musketeers." Savoy said with a sneer.

"Good morning, Your Grace." Athos bowed in the saddle. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. We are here to accompany you to Paris."

"I know you." The Duke narrowed his eyes. "We fought. Your ferocity was enlightening."

Athos continued to gaze equably at their guest. "Indeed?"

"Despite your denial I have no doubt that you wanted to kill me."

"You are mistaken. I would never seek to harm the Duke of Savoy. May I present my companions?"

"Their names are of no interest to me."

"As you wish." Athos turned his head to look at Aramis. His gaze went unnoticed because Aramis' stare was boring into the Duke. "We should be on our way." He saw Porthos lean over to say something which broke Aramis' concentration. He fell in on the left side of the Duke and rode past his friends so that they could take up position at the rear of the column.

The Duke gave the other Musketeers only a cursory glance but when he looked at Aramis he frowned and reined in his horse. "Have we met?" he asked.

Aramis raised his head to stare arrogantly at the Duke. "Once," he replied in a voice that was tight with anger.

Puzzlement was quickly replaced by indifference as the Duke dismissed the question from his mind. He turned his attention back to the road and spurred his horse into a brisk trot.

Porthos kept pace with Aramis, concerned by the seething fury he could see on his friend's face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"Tell that to someone who'll believe you."

Aramis' expression softened. "He is just as I remember him although this is the first time I have been able to see his face this clearly. He carries no weight of guilt despite the death toll and the circumstances of the massacre."

"He was led to believe that you were there to kill him and put his infant son in his place."

"Do you make excuses for him?" Aramis asked, his anger returning.

"Never. What he did was unforgiveable," Porthos said soothingly. Aramis, in this mood, was like a half-broken colt, prone to heading off in any number of unexpected directions. He knew that Athos would want him to keep their wayward friend on a tight rein, lest Aramis forget his place and provoke the Duke.

"He didn't have to kill them," Aramis said sadly. "They caught us by surprise and could have taken us captive." He stared intently at the Duke's back. "He is an unusually cruel man."

"I'm not goin' to disagree with you about that. Does it make it easier now that you've seen him?" he asked curiously.

Aramis bowed his head, his distress palpable. "I hoped that it would but, no, it hasn't lessened my desire to see him dead."

"You know that isn't goin' to happen, right?"

"I wouldn't have put it past Richelieu to arrange an assassination and Rochefort is no better. If Savoy does anything to threaten the monarchy his life will be in danger."

"And, it's our job to keep him alive."

"I know my duty," Aramis said with distaste. "I'm going to scout the road ahead."

Porthos leaned over and put his hand on Aramis' arm. "You've done what you set out to do. When we get back ask Treville to be relieved of this assignment."

The look Aramis gave him was so cold that Porthos withdrew and suppressed a shudder. "Our orders are to look after the Duke until he leaves Paris. I will not desert my post." He pulled on the reins to turn his horse out of line and spurred away in a cloud of repressed fury.

TMTMTM

After thirty minutes of riding Athos was heartily sick of listening to the Duke and Gontard discussing the King in the most unflattering terms. He knew that he was being baited and kept his jaws clenched against the unforgivable words that he wanted to hurl in his monarch's defence.

"How is Louis managing to govern the kingdom without Richelieu?" the Duke asked, disdain dripping from his voice.

"He has a very capable council."

"Has he appointed a new First Minister?"

"Not yet." Athos had no doubt who would be the recipient of that particular honour. Rochefort had wormed his way into the King's trust and affection. It would be a bad day for the Musketeers when the announcement was finally made.

"Tell me about the Comte de Rochefort," the Duke ordered.

Athos licked his lips while he considered how to answer. "He is a potent force at Court. The King relies upon him much as he relied upon the Cardinal."

"Is he as incorruptible at the Cardinal?"

"Are you asking if he can be bribed, Your Grace?" Athos asked mildly.

"I merely wish to know if he is as assiduous in his service to France."

"He is devoted to the King," Athos replied, although he was certain that was a lie. Rochefort cared only for himself apart from his unhealthy interest in the Queen.

"He was a prisoner of the Spanish?"

"For five years. He has no cause to love Spain," Athos said pointedly.

"Yet Spain is a force to be reckoned with."

Athos nodded in agreement. "We stand on the brink of war," he said warningly, "And anyone who allies himself with our enemy should be very careful."

"You threaten me?"

"You misunderstand. I am merely stating a fact." Athos had learnt at an early age how to play this game and he was extremely accomplished at it. Despite that, he had no love for political intrigue and was happy to leave it to the sycophants who surrounded the King.

"You would do well to remember your place, Musketeer."

"As Your Grace commands," he said. "We will reach Paris soon. My orders are to escort you to the Louvre to await the King's pleasure."

"In other words I'm to be kept waiting until Louis decides to meet with me," the Duke said with a grimace of distaste.

"If the King grants you an audience you will be summoned to his illustrious presence." Athos stressed the word 'if' just to cause more irritation. He gazed ahead, uneasy because Aramis was out of his sight. He signalled to Porthos who immediately rode up to join him.

"Find Aramis and stay with him. The city is only a few miles away and I don't want him entering it alone."

"Right." Porthos encouraged his horse into a canter, quickly disappearing around a curve in the road.

"Why are you so concerned for your companion?" Savoy asked.

"He was recently wounded and is not yet fully recovered."

"His face is familiar."

"You probably saw him on your last visit. He was in the honour guard."

"Perhaps."

Athos could see that it was still bothering the Duke but didn't feel the need to say anything further. He could only hope that they got through this visit without Aramis telling the Duke exactly where they had met before.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

I found a little time to write and an internet connection so here is the next chapter.

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Six**

Rochefort had never been a man to let an opportunity slip through his fingers. The attack by Marmion and his followers had left the King scared and withdrawn, giving him the perfect excuse to get close to the Queen. She was sitting with her ladies, a small worried frown creasing her forehead when he bowed low before her.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. I hope you are well." Her smile, the highlight of his day, was distracted.

"I am, thank you, Rochefort but there is one matter that concerns me. The Duke of Savoy arrives today. Will the King meet him?" She disliked Victor, finding him to be brash and a bully. This time he was visiting without his wife, who at least had been able to exercise some control over him.

"The King has given no indication one way or the other."

"Talk to him for me, Rochefort. He will listen to you."

"It is always my pleasure to be of service."

"What would I do without you?" Her smile this time was genuinely warm. It was another indication of her feelings for him, if only he could free her from the shackles of her marriage.

He bowed and, with regret, left her illustrious presence. The hallways and ante-chambers were full of courtiers anxiously waiting to see the King. Rochefort moved through the crowds, ignoring everyone. He could feel their fear and hatred like a tangible thing and he relished it.

The King had sequestered himself in his bed chamber, his nerves in tatters, but he opened the door and beckoned for Rochefort to enter.

"Your court awaits you, Sire," Rochefort said.

"Let them wait," the King replied peevishly.

"The Queen is concerned for your health."

"As well she should be when madmen try to kill me."

Rochefort hid his distaste. Louis hadn't been the only person whose life had been in peril. "I gave you my word that you would be better protected," he said soothingly. "My Red Guard are far more capable than the Musketeers. Treville and his men have let you down too often."

"Treville is no longer their Captain."

"Yet his men still look up to him. You should think about appointing a replacement soon."

"I would value your advice." Louis sat on his bed looking dejected and dishevelled.

"I am sure I can recommend someone suitable. In the meantime we will keep you safe."

"Rochefort, you are my saviour."

"I only do my duty. Now, Sire, what are your plans for the Duke of Savoy?"

Louis' face darkened with anger. "How dare he come here without an invitation? He thinks to take advantage of the Cardinal's death. He is a dreadful man from an insignificant little principality."

"Savoy might be small but it is in a strategic position. If it would ease Your Majesty's mind I can deal with him for you."

"With relations so strained with Spain we can't afford to upset him and he knows that. Damn him!" the King shouted.

"It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to him while he is here," Rochefort mused.

"Do not tempt me," Louis said. "My sister would make a capable regent for young Louis Amadeus."

"He is under the protection of Musketeers. Who knows what disaster could befall him."

"No. No, Rochefort. My sister would never forgive me."

"As you wish, Sire." Rochefort's fertile imagination began to weave plots. The death of the Duke while a guest of France could be the trigger for Spain to invade Savoy and that would bring the two countries one step closer to war. And, if one or more of the Musketeers should fall while protecting him that would just be a fortuitous bonus.

TMTMTM

"What're you doin'?" Porthos asked. He had caught up with Aramis who was sitting on his horse in the centre of the road staring into the distance. "Did you see something?"

When Aramis turned his head his eyes were unfocussed. "What? No."

"You're thinkin' about the massacre," Porthos said.

"It's all as clear in my mind as the day it happened. I thought I was ready to face the Duke. So many years have passed it shouldn't hurt this badly."

Porthos looked at his brother with concern. "I'll tell Athos we're goin' back to the garrison."

A fierce determination crossed Aramis' face. "That won't solve the problem. I swore I would fulfill my duty. I believe it is the only way to exorcise my ghosts."

"Are you sure?"

A sad smile graced Aramis' face. "Honestly? No, but I owe it to my dead brothers."

The sound of horses' hooves intruded on their conversation and Aramis turned to look over his shoulder. He couldn't miss the relief on the faces of Athos and d'Artagnan and realized that they had been worried about him. In his distracted mood he'd almost forgotten that there was someone out there who wanted him dead. Any doubts he'd had about the Duke's involvement were now laid to rest since Savoy clearly didn't know that anyone had survived the massacre.

"We'll keep watch ahead," Porthos called, saving Aramis from another close encounter with the Duke. "Come on."

Aramis could see the Duke was watching him intently, clearly struggling to remember the circumstances of their last meeting. He turned away with relief, unable to look at the man responsible for the death of his friends.

TMTMTM

They arrived at the Louvre without incident and found their way barred by two members of the Red Guard. Athos looked down on the disdainfully, a fact which caused them to bristle with anger.

"This is the Duke of Savoy. He is a guest of the King. I suggest you let us pass," Athos said, the force of command in his voice.

"The Comte de Rochefort instructed us to inform him of the Duke's arrival," one of the guards replied.

"Very well, but do you really expect the Duke to sit out here and wait for Rochefort's arrival?"

"Those are our orders."

Athos turned to the Duke. "Excuse me, Your Grace, it appears we have a slight problem. If you will leave it to me I'm sure I can clear up the misunderstanding." Athos dismounted and strode over to the guards, getting close enough to be provocative. He lowered his voice which did nothing to diminish the force of his presence. "Savoy is an important ally. You would do well not to upset him. Now, I know you are afraid of your Captain but that's no excuse for showing discourtesy to an honoured visitor."

The guards reached for their swords, hesitating when Athos was joined by his three companions, all of whom looked quite prepared for battle.

"You really don't want to do that," d'Artagnan said.

"We're takin' the Duke inside," Porthos added. "It would be smart of you to move aside."

The two guards looked at each other before stepping back.

"Excellent choice," Athos said, moving his hand away from the hilt of his sword. "Your Grace, if you would follow me."

The Duke dismounted and, as he drew level with Aramis, he put out a hand and caught the marksman's sleeve. "Tell me where we met."

"It was a long time ago," Aramis said, his eyes darkening with the pain of his memories. "Six years ago to be precise." He knew he shouldn't say any more but suddenly he wanted Victor to know who he was facing. "Good Friday." He shook his arm free and marched into the Louvre, his breath coming too quickly and his stomach tying itself into a knot. He caught only the briefest glimpse of Athos' disapproving look and met it with defiance.

They had only just entered the building when they saw Rochefort walking towards them. He wore his habitual sneer when he looked at them and Aramis had to force himself not to punch the smug bastard in the face. He wasn't normally a violent man except where circumstances warranted it but, since meeting the Duke on the road, he had been experiencing an almost unbearable urge to inflict pain.

"Your Grace," Rochefort said, bowing. "I am the Comte de Rochefort. I had intended to meet you on your arrival. Sadly the King is indisposed but he bids you welcome."

"I doubt that," Victor said sourly, although his gaze kept sliding toward Aramis. "It has been a long journey and I would like to rest. Show me to my rooms."

"I'm sure your Musketeer escort is more than capable of fulfilling that task. Might I invite you to dine with me this evening? As one of the King's most trusted advisors I would be interested to discuss the reason for your visit."

"I don't do business with underlings," the Duke said.

Athos dipped his head to hide his pleased smile. It wasn't often that Rochefort was humiliated. He heard Porthos give a grunt of approval. "If you would care to follow me. I will show you to your quarters," he said.

"Tell the King, Rochefort, that I won't be kept waiting around like some common petitioner. Either he meets with me or I leave here and open discussions with the Spanish. It's his choice."

As Athos led the way up the stairs he took the time to reflect just how much damage the Duke could do. He hoped that the King would see reason and agree to a meeting before Victor lost patience. They reached the suite of rooms set aside for Savoy and Athos bowed, preparing to depart.

"We will be on hand if you require anything," he said.

"I don't need Musketeer minders," Savoy said irritably.

"Nevertheless we are at your command."

"This one will stay." Victor pointed at Aramis. "The rest of you can go."

"I don't think that's wise," Athos said.

"Go. I will join you soon." Aramis looked grimly determined.

"As you wish."

Aramis stood to rigid attention as his friends left. He looked fixedly at a painting hanging on the wall behind the Duke's left shoulder. He felt queasy but nothing showed on his face. Victor walked up to him and stared intently at him.

"What did you mean about Good Friday?"

"I can't imagine that you have forgotten about the death of twenty Musketeers," Aramis said, meeting the man's piercing stare.

"I heard about it, of course. After all it happened in Savoy."

"A Spanish raiding party. That's what we were told."

"You were there?"

"I was one of two survivors." He noted with pleasure the shock on the Duke's face. "The attackers came in the night, slaughtering men as they slept. There wasn't much resistance, but I managed to wound their leader. He will carry a scar across his back." Aramis looked into the hate-filled eyes of his enemy. "I don't suppose that means anything to you?"

"Why would it?"

"You are known to be friendly with the Spanish. I thought perhaps you might know who led the raid."

"You are mistaken."

"The evidence is compelling but, of course, I accept your word."

"You should rejoin your friends."

"Of course." Aramis bowed. "I am at your service for the duration of your stay in Paris. We wouldn't want there to be another attempt on your life." His fingers itched to draw his pistol and put a ball between the Duke's eyes. Finally he could understand Marsac's obsession and he withdrew before he could act upon his impulse.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Seven**

After the Musketeer had left the room Gontard looked at his master apprehensively. The Duke said nothing although he was visibly angry with his face and neck flushed.

"He can't know anything for certain," Gontard said to break the ominous silence. "Our men were all masked and none wore the insignia of Savoy."

"You're a fool," the Duke snarled. "Somehow he has found out the truth."

"He's testing you," Gontard said nervously. "Waiting to see if you react to his veiled accusations."

"He is the one who wounded me and his friend, Athos, saw the scar on my back." The Duke made a fist and looked ready to lash out indiscriminately. "I was certain they were all dead."

"What harm can he do? No-one will accept the word of a common soldier."

The Duke grabbed Gontard by the front of his doublet and pulled him close. "He knows the truth. I want him dead."

"Don't be hasty, Your Grace." Gontard squirmed in the Duke's iron grip. "Killing a Musketeer in Paris isn't something to be undertaken lightly. And remember he has his friends around him."

"Then kill them all." Savoy yelled pushing his First Minister away. "I don't care how you do it but I want him dead before we leave."

TMTMTM

"What was that all about?" Athos asked when Aramis rejoined them.

"Nothing."

"Do you have a death wish?" Porthos asked angrily. "There's already one maniac runnin' around tryin' to kill you. Did you have to add the Duke to the list of people who want you dead?"

"He needed to know that one of us survived. The truth cannot be hidden forever."

"The truth will never come out, Aramis," Athos said gently. "You know that. The King was complicit in the scheme to distract the Duke. It was a political maneuver with ramifications far wider than your own anger and grief."

"It was a long time ago," d'Artagnan said. "Maybe it's time to lay it to rest."

Aramis pushed him against the wall, his expression furious. "Are you suggesting that I should forget my dead brothers?"

"That isn't what he meant." Porthos pried Aramis off the young man before the situation could get out of control.

"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan said. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

Aramis ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I should be the one to apologise. I overreacted."

"Understandable, but not wise," Athos said. "Porthos, you and d'Artagnan stay here in case the Duke takes it into his head to leave the Louvre. Aramis and I are going back to the garrison."

"I am still capable of doing my duty," Aramis protested.

"I know and we will come back later to relieve them. Right now, though, we need to put some distance between you and the Duke."

"You don't have to tell Treville what happened," Aramis suggested nervously as the full weight of his actions settled around him. He had acted without any thought for the consequences which were looking dire.

"He deserves to know and we have to guard against retaliation. I don't believe the Duke will simply forget what you said. He is more likely to take it as a challenge. We are all at risk. He will know that you have shared your suspicions with us."

"It wasn't my intent to confront him but, when I saw him again…"

Athos squeezed his shoulder supportively. "We will deal with whatever comes of your actions. We are already on our guard and, I promise you, we will let no harm come to you."

"Thank you, my friends."

"You'd do the same for us," Porthos said.

"I would lay down my life for you."

"Let us hope that it doesn't come to that," Athos said. "Come, Aramis. I will feel more at ease once you are safely back at the garrison."

TMTMTM

Rochefort moved away from his vantage point, pondering on the conversation he had just over-heard. It had been enlightening. He knew about the massacre in Savoy and had found papers in Richelieu's study that suggested the Musketeers had been used as bait so that French agents could grab Savoy's Chancellor. He hadn't been aware of Aramis' involvement though and that opened up interesting possibilities. The Musketeer would make a perfect scapegoat in the event of the Duke's unfortunate death.

He walked up the stairs to the King's bedchamber where Louis still cowered, fearful of emerging in case he faced another threat to his life. He felt only disdain for the man. The Queen had been subjected to the same ordeal yet she still fulfilled her duties, as brave and gracious as ever. She didn't deserve to be tied to such a spineless creature. She should be with a man who was her equal in every way. Soon he would see that wish become a reality.

"The Duke of Savoy has arrived, Sire," Rochefort said when he was admitted to the royal presence. "He is insisting on an audience with you."

"He'll have to wait," the King said petulantly.

"He has threatened an alliance with Spain."

"Can't you do anything about him? The Cardinal knew how to handle him."

"There is something you should know," Rochefort said, suppressing his irritation at the reference to Richelieu. "The Musketeer Aramis was present at the massacre six years ago in Savoy. It seems that he knows the Duke was responsible."

"How is that possible? All the Musketeers were killed."

"Apparently that wasn't the case. I'm sure Captain Treville had a good reason for failing to report that there was a survivor."

"This is a disaster!"

"Perhaps not. The Duke is a problem and there is a very real possibility that Aramis might take matters into his own hands."

"I told you before that I don't want the Duke killed. How would it look if we can't protect a guest on French soil?"

"You could hardly be blamed, Your Majesty. A rogue Musketeer, acting alone and without authority. It would be unfortunate, of course, but think of the benefits to France."

"I don't want to hear any more about it."

"As you wish." Rochefort was satisfied. The King had not issued an outright prohibition, neither had he given orders for Aramis to be detained during the Duke's visit. His plan could proceed. Louis would no doubt express outrage at the assassination. He would order Aramis' immediate execution and it would be another nail in the coffin of the Musketeer regiment. In every respect it would be a very satisfactory outcome.

TMTMTM

For the man lurking in the shadows it was galling to see Aramis ride through the archway leading to the garrison. He'd tried twice to kill the Musketeer who had taken everything from him. It had been exhilarating to be part of a cause, to be one of those closest to the prophet. Then, it turned out to be a lie. If Aramis had never been allowed to get close to Emilie they would still be riding high on the strength of her visions. He would have a purpose and a position as her chief bodyguard. Instead, he was just another peasant starving in the streets. He'd given up everything to follow the girl who had seemed to be Joan of Arc reborn. Raymond spat into the gutter. They had all been misled and now he had nothing left except for a thirst for revenge. And, he would have his vengeance against the Musketeer who had ruined their sacred cause. He turned away, already plotting his next move.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Eight**

"You did what?" Treville yelled, glaring at Aramis who looked stoically over his Captain's left shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I led the Duke to believe I know of his involvement with the massacre," Aramis said, his voice unsteady.

"You assured me you could handle this."

"I'm sorry, Captain." It seemed the wisest thing to say even though he felt no remorse. He heard a slight groan from Athos, a clear signal that his tone hadn't matched his words.

"It's a little late for that." Treville ran a hand through his short hair while he wrestled with his temper and a profound sense of unease. "How did he take it?"

"He didn't give much away." Aramis slid his eyes towards Treville, trying to gauge the level of anger felt by his commanding officer. The massacre hit too close to home for Treville yet the Captain had managed to restrain himself during the Duke's last visit. He had every right to be furious that Aramis hadn't been able to exercise the same level of self-control.

"You have made a dangerous enemy," Treville said.

"If I may speak." Athos, who had stood supportively by Aramis' side throughout the confrontation, intervened before the tension could rise to unbearable levels. "The Duke has far more pressing matters on his mind."

"You don't know him," Treville said sharply. "He is vicious and vindictive. For six years he believed his secret to be safe. Do you really think he will do nothing now that he knows the truth has come out?"

"We are already on our guard," Athos argued.

"That's not good enough." Treville laid his palms on his desk, leaning forward to emphasise his point. "Aramis, you are confined to barracks for the duration of the Duke's visit."

"No! Captain, please." He looked beseechingly at his superior, the words lancing into him like a knife.

"It's what I should have done the minute I knew he was coming. You will stay away from him. Now, you have your orders, soldier. I suggest you obey them."

Aramis' expression became filled with anguish. He had let his brothers down again and wasn't even to be allowed the dignity of doing his duty. Any further appeal would be useless. Treville's mind was made up and Aramis knew the Captain wouldn't be swayed. He turned, walked unsteadily to the door and left before he could make matters worse.

"How could you let him do something so stupid?" Treville asked fiercely once the door closed. He could hear Aramis' rapid footsteps on the stairs and hoped his instructions would be followed. If Aramis took it into his head to leave the garrison he could be walking straight into an ambush.

"Is it really me you're angry with?" Athos asked unperturbed by the Captain's ire.

Treville sat down heavily. "Forgive me, Athos. You're right. I should have seen this coming. Aramis never truly recovered from the events of that night. If I had handled him differently we might not have reached this impasse."

"We will take care of him," Athos assured him. "No harm will come to him and he will eventually come around and realise this is for the best."

"I hope you're right. I would hate for Savoy to claim another victim.

"No more Musketeers will die by his hand. I promise you that."

TMTMTM

"Where do you think he's going?" d'Artagnan asked.

Gontard had just left the suite of rooms assigned to the Duke. He wore his hat and cloak and clearly intended to leave the Palace.

"I don't know but he's the one who does the Duke's dirty work. Stay here. I'll follow him."

Gontard used one of the side doors to exit the building and was quickly assimilated into the crowds of people moving through the streets. Porthos followed as closely as he dared, frowning when he realised Savoy's First Minister was heading to a part of town usually avoided by the gentry. Porthos hurriedly ducked into an alley when Gontard turned to look behind him. When he emerged his quarry was no-where in sight. He shouldered his way past men and women, his pace increasing. Then he caught a glimpse of the man turning down a side street.

His uncomfortable feeling increased when Gontard entered a tavern called The Falcon. It was the type of establishment where anything could be bought if you had no scruples and enough money. Porthos didn't think it was a coincidence so soon after Aramis had confronted the Duke. If you were looking for a hired assassin this was the place to come.

"You're a damn fool, Aramis," he muttered before stooping and entering the building. The atmosphere was raucous, with men shouting to one another, engaging in games of chance or pawing the tavern wenches who were doing the rounds with trays of ale. The smell that assaulted him was almost enough to cause him to take a step backwards. Unwashed bodies mingled with cheap perfume, sour wine and spilt beer. At one time Porthos would have felt quite at home. He kept to the periphery of the room, hoping to remain unnoticed. It was a risk but he was reluctant to leave before seeing who Gontard had come to find.

He watched Gontard approach the innkeeper. The man seemed disinclined to talk until a small pouch of money was placed on the wooden bar. Then he became more animated, pointing to a small group of tables in the far corner. Porthos looked and swore under his breath. Half a dozen men sat there and, at their head, was a weasel faced man who looked completely unprepossessing but who was actually the most dangerous man in the room. Bastien Hebert ran the preeminent street gang in the area. It was suspected of many vicious attacks and murders but everyone was too afraid to give evidence against him and his men. Gontard could only have one reason to see a man like that.

He left quickly before he could be seen and hurried back to the Palace to find d'Artagnan.

"Well?" the younger man asked.

"He's hirin' himself an assassin. Aramis had better look out. Seems like he's got two men tryin' to kill him."

"We have to get word back to the garrison."

"Word about what?" Athos asked, strolling into the room.

"Where's Aramis?" Porthos asked urgently.

"Treville didn't take his news very well. He's been taken off active duty until the Duke leaves."

"Good, 'cause Gontard just paid a visit to Bastien Hebert."

"That is very bad news."

"Who is Bastien Hebert?" d'Artagnan asked.

"A thug for hire who will do anything you want if the price is right. It appears Treville was right. The Duke wants Aramis out of the way."

"He'll be safe if he stays in the garrison," d'Artagnan said hopefully.

"We won't be able to cage him indefinitely and Hebert has a reputation for not stopping until the job is done."

"So, what do we do?"

"That is a very good question, d'Artagnan. I'm very much afraid that the only answer is to give our assassins a target and hope we can stop them."

"Treville won't like it," Porthos said.

"Let me handle the Captain. D'Artagnan, go back to the garrison and tell Aramis what has happened. Make sure he does nothing rash. Porthos and I will stay here until the Duke retires for the night. Let us hope that the King consents to see him tomorrow. I will feel happier once he is on his way home."

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Nine**

D'Artagnan found Aramis sitting in the courtyard, watching as groups of their colleagues sparred or worked to improve their hand to hand combat. He looked remarkably calm, something which immediately worried the younger man. Aramis acknowledged his arrival with a brief nod of his head.

"Athos and Porthos will be back later," d'Artagnan said. "Athos told us what happened with Treville. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Aramis looked up to the balcony where Treville stood watching the happenings below him.

"I've got some bad news." D'Artagnan was hesitant to impart the new information even though he knew Aramis needed to know. "The Duke has hired an assassin to kill you."

Aramis continued to look unperturbed. "Not unexpected."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

A shrug of the shoulder was the only response he received.

"We need to discuss how we deal with the fact that two people want you dead."

"There's nothing to discuss. I won't stay locked up in the garrison."

D'Artagnan glanced upwards. "Treville will have you on a charge if you disobey him."

"You forget, d'Artagnan, Treville is no longer our commanding officer. I have given him due respect up to now but I won't have my movements curtailed."

D'Artagnan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Aramis had always been a staunch supporter of Treville. "Whatever the king might have done he is still our Captain. I for one will not disobey him."

"It appears we are at odds."

"You're not thinking clearly." He began to wish that Athos and Porthos were there to help talk sense into their friend.

"I refuse to spend my life looking over my shoulder and wondering when someone is going to take a shot at me. Surely you can understand that."

"I can," d'Artagnan admitted reluctantly.

"Then let us decide how we are going to deal with this problem."

"At least wait until Athos and Porthos get here. Athos can talk to Treville, get him to agree."

Aramis looked at the balcony which was now empty. "Very well, d'Artagnan, but know this. I won't be stopped."

TMTMTM

"I won't hide," Aramis said.

It was late with most of the regiment having already retired for the night. They were gathered in Athos' room and Aramis was well on his way to becoming inebriated.

"No-one is suggesting that you should." Athos moved the bottle out of his friends reach and rolled his eyes as the conversation once again drifted around to Aramis' obsession with dangling himself out as bait. Any hope of a sensible discussion had disappeared as their friend had applied his mind to draining at least two bottles of Athos' best wine.

"Treville is." Aramis emptied his glass then looked blearily around. "Where'd the wine go?"

"I think you've had enough," Athos said. "Treville will still expect to see you at morning muster."

"Athos is right. Maybe you should go to bed."

"Stop worrying, d'Artagnan." Aramis stood up, staggered and grabbed onto the table to steady himself.

"That does it," Porthos said, getting to his feet and wrapping an arm around his friend's waist. "Let me help you."

"You know what's a shame?" Aramis leaned heavily against Porthos. "It's a shame Marsac missed when he shot at the Duke. I wouldn't have missed. He deserves to die for what he did."

"I don't think that's something you should say in Treville's hearing," Athos cautioned. "You're tired and drunk and you need to go and lie down."

"I'm not drunk," Aramis protested.

"Of course not." Porthos began to steer him towards the door.

Aramis suddenly came to a halt, peering earnestly at Porthos. "Where are we going?"

"You're goin' to bed."

Aramis thought about that for a minute before nodding vigorously. "Good idea." He then turned vaguely green.

"I'll see him settled," Porthos said, manoeuvering the marksman through the doorway.

Athos reached for the bottle and poured another glass. When he held the wine out to d'Artagnan the younger man shook his head.

"He didn't mean it, did he?" d'Artagnan asked. "He wouldn't really think about shooting the Duke?"

"Aramis isn't a murderer although I sympathise with his wish for revenge."

"Do you think Treville will change his mind?"

"He won't let Aramis near the Duke but I hope I can persuade him to let Aramis leave the garrison. In any event the King has agreed to meet the Duke tomorrow so hopefully he will be on his way home soon."

TMTMTM

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were all on duty the next day when the King grudgingly met with the Duke of Savoy. It was hot and the audience was scheduled to be held in the gardens. The King and Queen sat on comfortable chairs under a large canopy. Everyone else stood and sweltered. Rochefort was at the King's right hand, surveying the scene with a sneer on his face.

Constance, in attendance on the Queen, kept shooting covert glances at d'Artagnan. She was still trying to work up the courage to tell her husband that she was leaving him. In her few stolen moments with d'Artagnan she had learnt about the danger facing Aramis. He was distracted by the threat to his brother so she made no demands of him. Aramis, she noticed, was missing from the honour guard awaiting the Duke.

When the Duke finally appeared he was accompanied only by his First Minister. Constance had never seen him before although she knew all about the events during his last visit. He carried himself with an arrogance that rivalled Rochefort and the gaze he fixed on the King was unfriendly.

"Your Majesty." Savoy bowed just low enough to avoid insult.

"Victor. I am sorry you have had such a long journey for nothing," the King said.

"You'd refuse my petition without giving me a hearing?" The Duke's neck turned red as his temper immediately rose.

"We have an agreement. I see no reason to change it."

"Circumstances have changed. France and Spain are edging closer to war and Savoy occupies a position of strategic importance."

Athos stared straight ahead not really listening to the discussion. He knew how diplomacy worked. Eventually the King would grant a concession. It would be less than the Duke's demands but sufficient to send Savoy home feeling that he had achieved something. He looked to his left. Porthos and d'Artagnan stood stiffly to attention, their expressions giving nothing away about the turmoil besetting all of them.

They all had good reason to hate the Duke. It was because of him that and entire troop of Musketeers was dead and their brother languished in the garrison nursing a vicious hangover. It worried him that they were no closer to stopping the men intent upon killing Aramis. At least in one case they knew who they were facing. The other assassin remained faceless and therefore the greater threat.

Athos returned his attention to his surroundings. It was hot and he was uncomfortable in his heavy leather uniform. He could feel the sweat trickling down his spine. The whine of small flying insects was yet another constant source of irritation.

The Duke had raised his voice, threatening to return home and strike a deal with Spain. Rochefort intervened, asserting that Savoy would thereby lose its independence. The meeting looked like it was going to end in an acrimonious disagreement. Then the King said something conciliatory and the level of their voices dropped so that Athos could no longer hear them clearly.

He turned his thoughts back to Aramis, who was suffering because of this visit. Memories of the violent deaths of twenty Musketeers might fade but they would never disappear. For a year Aramis had carried the added burden of killing Marsac. Was it any wonder he had confronted the Duke? He was pulled from his reverie by an elbow in the ribs.

"The audience is over," Porthos said.

Athos looked over to see the Duke and Gontard bowing. "Did they reach an agreement?"

"Looks like it."

There was a sudden unexpected explosion of sound and the Duke fell to his knees.

"Protect the King and Queen," Athos yelled. He ran over to the Duke, supporting the man as he swayed. Suddenly he was taking all of the Duke's weight. "Help me," he snapped at Gontard who was standing beside his master in wide-eyed shock.

Between them they managed to manoeuver the Duke to the ground. When Athos removed his hands he found one was stained with blood. The wound, he soon discovered, was in the Duke's back and Athos pressed his hands over it. "Send for a physician. Quickly!"

"He's been shot," Gontard said. "You must find the assassin."

"Keeping the Duke alive is our priority," Athos said, pressing harder. Blood continued to leak between his fingers.

"You were supposed to protect him," Gontard ranted.

Athos ignored the accusation. All he could think about were Aramis' words from the previous evening. Had events finally conspired to make his friend lose his mind? Had Aramis just shot the Duke of Savoy?

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Ten**

"How could you let this happen?" the King asked petulantly.

The Musketeers stood to attention in front of the throne and said nothing. There was no answer they could give that would satisfy Louis.

"Typical Musketeer incompetence," Rochefort said.

"Yes. You continue to disappoint me," Louis said. "Did you find any sign of the assassin?"

"No, Sire," Athos said. "By the time we made sure you and the Queen were safe whoever it was had gone."

"The King isn't looking for excuses." Rochefort studied each of them in turn. "Tell me, where is your friend Aramis?"

Athos gave him a sharp look. "At the garrison."

"Is he, I wonder?"

"What are you implying?" Athos asked.

"It is known to the King that Aramis has no fondness for the Duke. Some misplaced belief that Savoy was responsible for the death of a troop of Musketeers six years ago. Can it be a coincidence that your most talented marksman isn't here on the day the Duke gets shot?"

"Aramis is not responsible." Athos' earlier doubts had disappeared now that he was past the initial shock. Aramis was an honourable man who would never stoop to this level.

Rochefort beckoned to the Captain of the Red Guard. "Go to the Musketeer garrison and arrest Aramis. Bring him here for questioning."

"Yes, Sir."

Athos bit his lip to hold back his protest. If not for the King's presence he would gladly have argued with Rochefort but now was not the time or place.

"We will soon have the truth, Your Majesty." Rochefort's satisfaction was plain for the Musketeers to see.

"Once again you prove your worth, Rochefort. Send word when he arrives." The King glanced at the Musketeers. "You are dismissed."

They bowed and backed out of the King's presence.

"Aramis wouldn't do somethin' like this," Porthos said, striding furiously down the hallway.

"Rochefort was looking a little too smug," d'Artagnan said. "Do you think he is involved?"

"Undoubtedly. This was a perfect excuse to damage the Musketeers. What I don't know is how he found out about Aramis and the Duke."

"Maybe Savoy told him," Porthos said.

"That hardly seems likely. Well, the damage is done now. We should head back to the garrison. Aramis will need our support and I don't like the idea of him walking through the streets unarmed. He will make a tempting target."

TMTMTM

Despite his hangover, Aramis couldn't sit still. He wandered into the stables, collected his horse's tack and carried it over to the table to clean it. As he settled into a comfortable routine of oiling the leather and polishing the metal he began to feel better. He smiled his thanks to Serge when the old cook brought out a pitcher of pleasantly cold water and a plate of bread and cheese. As the morning wore on he began to wish more and more that he was at the Palace with his friends. He also felt a deep shame for his behaviour of the previous day and resolved to present his apologies to Captain Treville.

He looked up with only casual interest when there was a commotion at the gates. A contingent of Red Guards entered the courtyard, the Captain demanding to see Treville.

"What do you want?" Treville came down the stairs from his office.

"We're looking for the Musketeer, Aramis."

"Why?" Treville indicated that Aramis should stay where he was.

"There has been an attempt on the life of the Duke of Savoy. We have orders to arrest him and take him to the King for questioning."

"This is ridiculous. He's been in the garrison all morning."

Aramis' heart missed a beat and he stepped forward. "Is the Duke still alive?"

"That's him," the Captain of the Red Guards said. "Take him into custody."

Two of the soldiers approached him and his hand flew to his sword. Other Musketeers in the courtyard also reached for their weapons.

"Don't make matters worse," Treville cautioned.

"I had nothing to do with this, Captain."

"I know that, but you can't ignore a summons from the King. Don't worry, I will speak on your behalf. Hopefully the King will still listen to me."

Aramis bowed his head before nodding and allowing the soldiers to disarm him. "I won't give you any trouble," he said.

The sound of hooves on the cobbles heralded the arrival of his three friends. Athos slid quickly from his horse and strode over to stand by his side. "We'll accompany him," he said.

"That's not necessary, Musketeer."

Athos gave the Red Guard his haughtiest stare. "Nonetheless, we are coming with you."

Aramis was encased in a phalanx of Red Guard, who unknowingly thereby provided him with some protection from the men seeking his blood. Porthos and d'Artagnan walked ahead with Athos bringing up the rear. They were no more than two hundred yards from the garrison when d'Artagnan looked up and saw a man leaning out a first storey window holding pistol.

"Look out," he yelled.

Athos immediately ploughed through the Red Guard and tackled Aramis to the ground. D'Artagnan ran toward the front door of the building, Porthos close behind. The man fired, hitting one of the Red Guards, before disappearing from sight. The remaining soldiers milled around in confusion, having been totally unprepared for any external attack. The man who had been hit lay on the ground holding his shoulder and groaning weakly.

Aramis stood up, brushing dirt from his uniform. "Thank you, my friend." Despite the hostile stares from the soldiers he immediately went to the wounded man and hunkered down. "Let me see." He peeled back the leather uniform and shirt and gently probed the wound. "The ball is still in there. You need to see a physician. It doesn't look like it hit bone so you should be fine."

When d'Artagnan and Porthos returned the young Gascon wore an expression of furious frustration. "He got away out the back door."

"What the hell's going on?" the Red Guard Captain demanded.

"Nothing that concerns you," Athos replied.

"One of my men has been shot so answer the question."

"I have enemies who would like to see me dead," Aramis said, returning to stand by Athos.

"Pity they're such a bad shot then," the Captain said. "Get moving. The King's waiting."

Two of the soldiers stayed to help their wounded comrade while the rest of them resumed their journey to the Palace.

TMTMTM

Raymond watched in amazement as someone else took a shot at Aramis. He hurried round to the back of the building just in time to see the man slip out the door and into an alley. He followed the failed assassin, pressing back into a doorway when d'Artagnan and Porthos came running out, looking around for their quarry. D'Artagnan's gaze swept over him without any recognition and he breathed easier.

Once they had gone Raymond walked down the alley. He caught the briefest glimpse of the man and began to follow. Their route took them into one of the rougher neighbourhoods and Raymond kept his hand close to his knife. He received some curious glances, mainly he guessed because of the colour of his skin, but no-one impeded his progress. They ended up at a tavern called the Falcon. He approached the bar and ordered a beer. The man he had been following joined a small group sitting around a table at the rear of the building. After apparently reporting his failure Raymond saw him cringe as the smallest man in the group leaned forward and began to berate him.

Raymond considered his next move. These were dangerous men but it appeared they had a common cause. Would they welcome him or see him as an impediment to success? His attempts to kill Aramis had been woefully unsuccessful. It seemed that Musketeers did not die easily, he thought wryly. Aramis and his friends were forewarned of the danger now and on their guard. A two-pronged attack might succeed where one man alone would fail. His hatred of the Musketeer overcame his fear and he walked over to the table.

A large man with a shaved head and a scar on his cheek stood up to block his way. "Get lost."

"You wish to kill the Musketeer, Aramis," he said. A knife was pressed to his throat and he swallowed nervously.

"Who are you?" the leader of the group asked.

"Someone who sympathises with your quest. I too have tried to kill him."

"Why?"

"He ruined my life."

"My name is Bastien Hebert." He gestured and the knife was removed.

"Raymond."

"Sit." Hebert indicated an empty chair. "Let us discuss how to achieve our mutual goal."

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Eleven**

Aramis was thrown into a cell in the bowels of the Louvre to await the King's pleasure. Shackles were locked around his wrists attaching him to the wall by a long chain. He slid down to the ground, his back pressed against the cold stone. A virulent headache and a strong feeling of nausea were his only companions. Athos had protested vigorously about the forced separation but the appeals were useless. He was a suspected assassin and would be treated accordingly.

He still didn't know if the Duke lived and, truthfully, hoped that the real shooter had been successful in ridding the world of a man who was utterly without conscience. He was having difficulty, though, coming up with a viable suspect. He also couldn't understand why he had been singled out for questioning. No-one other than his friends and Treville knew of his history with the Duke.

There were raised voices followed by footsteps approaching his prison. He stood up, even though his entire body protested and he had to swallow down a sudden rush of bile. The chains rattled as he moved closer to the bars, determined to face the threat with fortitude. His tension released when he saw that it was Athos.

"I only have a few minutes," Athos said. "Prepare yourself. Rochefort knows you suspect the Duke of being responsible for the massacre."

"How?" His already unsettled stomach roiled unpleasantly.

"He must have overheard something. I think he's responsible for the attempt on the Duke's life and is using you as a scapegoat."

"There are many witnesses who can attest to my whereabouts this morning."

"All are Musketeers. He will say they have closed ranks to protect one of their own," Athos said somberly.

"You don't give me much hope." His attempt to lighten his tone failed dismally.

"It is for you to convince the King of your innocence. Treville will help if he can."

"Is the Duke still alive?"

"He is badly wounded but the physicians say he will recover." There was an overtone of distaste to Athos' voice. He, like Aramis, would not have been upset by the Duke's demise.

"Thank you for the warning. You should go before you are tainted by my presumed guilt."

"Be on your guard. Rochefort is a dangerous enemy." Athos turned away and then looked back over his shoulder. "Know this. We will never abandon you."

Aramis watched his friend leave with a heavy heart. Rochefort's influence over the King had only grown stronger lately. He was credited with engineering the rescue from the madman, Marmion, even though it had been the Musketeers aided by Milady who were responsible. Milady had risked her life and her reward was to be cast aside and accused of disloyalty. Treville was also out of favour and every move they made was scrutinised and met with criticism. What chance did he have of persuading the King that he wasn't involved?

He pulled on his chains, achieving nothing other than pain in his wrists as the metal bit into his flesh. He began to feel that he was doomed, then his natural optimism returned. Rochefort could not be allowed to prevail. The King would listen to Treville and he would be released. At least that was what he tried to tell himself while he waited for the summons to the royal presence.

TMTMTM

"We are here to establish the truth behind the attempted assassination of the Duke of Savoy," Rochefort intoned.

Aramis stood to attention, relieved that he was not suffering the indignity of being chained, particularly as the Queen sat beside her husband looking dismayed.

"You stand accused of this crime," Rochefort said, looking straight at Aramis. "Do you deny the charge?"

"I do."

Rochefort stepped down from the dais and approached him. "You have reason to hate the Duke and wish him dead. Tell the King."

"You are mistaken." He straightened his shoulders, wishing that he hadn't imbibed so much wine the night before. Standing still in cloyingly warm surroundings wasn't helping his headache.

"I think not. You were in Savoy six years ago when a troop of Musketeers was attacked by a band of Spanish raiders. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Except that you don't believe it was the Spanish who were responsible, do you?"

"That is what we were always told," he said, avoiding the question.

"And you might have believed it…once. When did you begin to suspect that the Duke's men were actually the ones who killed your comrades?"

Aramis stared straight ahead and said nothing.

"You confronted the Duke yesterday and, when he denied it, you decided to take matters into your own hands."

"I did not shoot the Duke. I was at the garrison all morning. There are many witnesses who will tell you the same thing."

"We'll get to that. Did you accuse the Duke?"

Aramis bowed his head. "Yes."

"What were you thinking?" the King asked. "The Duke is a guest of France. You can't go around accusing him of such a heinous crime. Particularly as there is no proof."

There was fear in the King's voice and Aramis knew its source. The Musketeers had been sacrificed on Louis' order as a diversion so that Savoy's Chancellor could be abducted. He must wonder if his part in that shameful ploy was also known.

"Your Majesty is correct. There is no more than suspicion," Aramis said. He couldn't reveal what had happened with Marsac without condemning himself and others for those events. Confessing to treason would play nicely into Rochefort's hands and see them all hanged.

"Yet you believe the Duke to be guilty. Tell His Majesty the truth."

Aramis glanced at the Queen, noting how ill at ease she looked, and he regretted her presence. "Yes," he said.

"Why weren't you on duty at the Palace today?"

"My presence wasn't required."

"I see. So, you used the opportunity to try and rid yourself of the man you blame for the death of your fellow Musketeers."

"I've already told you that there are witnesses to my whereabouts this morning."

"So you say. I would question the impartiality of those so-called witnesses." Rochefort looked at the King as he stressed the word 'witnesses'.

Aramis was concerned when he saw the King nod in agreement. "Captain Treville…"

"Treville is in disgrace. His words are not to be trusted."

"Come now, Rochefort," the Queen interjected. "Captain Treville has always proved to be a loyal servant of France. He aided in our rescue from Marmion, despite having been stripped of his command."

"His rank was taken away from him because he did not act in our best interests, my dear," the King said.

Aramis was aware that he was a problem for the King and, therefore, expendable. Treville's life was also entangled with the Duke which made his testimony suspect. He began to fear that Rochefort would prevail and that his life would be forfeit.

"Sire, Aramis has never given us any reason to doubt his veracity," the Queen said. "If he denies involvement I believe him."

"This is none of your concern." The King was close to losing his temper as guilt warred with his natural impatience.

"Forgive me. I only wish to see justice done."

The King smiled and patted her hand. "You are too soft hearted, my dear."

"Will you at least hear from Captain Treville?"

"Oh, very well."

The guards opened the door and ushered Treville into the room. He removed his hat and bowed respectfully before coming to a halt beside Aramis.

"Your Musketeer claims he did not leave the garrison this morning," Rochefort said. "What do you have to say?"

"He is telling the truth."

"You were watching him every minute?" Rochefort persisted.

"Of course not, but…"

"Then how can you be so sure he didn't slip away?"

"For him to have travelled to the Palace, shot the Duke and returned would have taken at least an hour and he was never out of my sight for that length of time." Treville looked directly at the King. "Has Your Majesty ever known me to lie?"

"No, I suppose not."

"There is no evidence linking Aramis with the shooting. You are looking in the wrong place."

"He has admitted holding the Duke to blame for the massacre at Savoy," Rochefort said. "That is a clear motive."

"He is not alone in that," Treville said. "Would you suspect me also of this crime?"

"You could be complicit."

"This is fanciful nonsense." Treville gave Rochefort a scathing look before turning to appeal to the King. "I beg you, Sire, not to convict him on the basis of groundless suspicion alone. You would be condemning an innocent man to death and allowing the real culprit to escape unpunished."

"How can I be sure?"

"Aramis' faith is strong. Have him swear an oath."

"This is ridiculous," Rochefort said. "You would just take his word?"

"An oath sworn on the Bible is sacred, Rochefort," the Queen said. "I do not believe Aramis would imperil his soul by lying."

"A man will say anything to save his life."

The King chewed his bottom lip indecisively. The case against Aramis was hardly compelling and he was reluctant to find him guilty without just cause. On the other hand, Aramis clearly knew the truth and that was dangerous. He glanced at Treville. The Captain had always known that Savoy was responsible, yet the quality of his service had never wavered. Maybe this was a time for mercy.

"I will accept his oath."

One of the servants fetched a Bible and the King's chaplain held it out to Aramis who, without hesitation, rested his right hand on it and drew himself up straighter.

"Do you swear that you had no involvement in the shooting of the Duke of Savoy?" the chaplain asked.

"I swear on my immortal soul that I did not shoot the Duke."

"Very well. Then, I suppose we should release you," the King said. "Treville, he is in your charge. He is to be kept well away from the Duke, is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Treville and Aramis bowed and backed away from the King's presence. When the doors opened Aramis saw his three friends waiting for him. Relieved grins spread across their faces. Athos threw an arm around his shoulders while Porthos slapped him on the back and d'Artagnan shook his hand vigorously.

"I knew you could talk your way out of it," d'Artagnan said.

"It wasn't my doing. I have the Captain to thank for my freedom."

"You can celebrate later. Right now we should get out of here before Rochefort comes up with another scheme to destroy us," Treville said.

"I take it he wasn't happy," Athos said.

"No. I rather think we disrupted a carefully laid plan."

"Even the Cardinal wasn't bold enough to try and kill the Duke," Porthos said.

"Rochefort doesn't have the Cardinal's subtlety," Treville chivied them toward the stairway. "It's hard to know if he staged this for the good of France or because he saw another way to discredit the Musketeers."

"I'm sure he found a way to rationalise it," Athos said. He stopped and turned to Aramis. "Of course if they'd kept you locked up we wouldn't have had to worry about the men who want you dead."

"True, but I'd likely be facing the hangman instead. I will take my chances."

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for waiting patiently while I finished Insurgency. This story will also soon be wrapping up. I have half an idea for a new story but I'm not sure about it yet. If anyone has any prompts I would be happy to try and work with them.

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter **

For five days Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan guarded the Duke of Savoy during his slow recovery. For that same period Aramis stayed confined to barracks, fretting, Rochefort fumed about the failure of his plans and those who wanted Aramis dead watched and waited.

On the sixth morning Treville called all four of them to his office. "The King's cousin, Princess Louise of Mantua is on her way to Paris. She is to marry the Swedish Crown Prince and the marriage is to be blessed by Archbishop Jacqueme before she continues on her journey. You will meet her at Vezelay and escort her to Paris."

"Is that wise?" Athos asked. "I doubt the Duke has changed his mind about having Aramis killed and we have another shadowy assassin to deal with as well."

"The Duke believes Aramis was behind the attempt on his life. He isn't happy that the King let him go," d'Artagnan added.

"This is an important assignment. The marriage will strengthen ties between the two countries. I need my best men and that means you four."

"I can't stay hidden away for ever," Aramis said. "This is a good way to draw out my enemies."

"It's a good way to get you killed," Porthos grumbled.

"Don't be so pessimistic." Aramis gave Porthos a rueful smile. "We will be on our guard."

"It is putting the Princess at risk," Athos said, unwilling to let go of his concerns. "If we are attacked while she is in our company she could be hurt or killed."

"Then I suggest you deal with it before you meet with her," Treville said. "The journey should take no more than three days. You leave in the morning."

The meeting was clearly over so the Musketeers left Treville's office and returned to the yard. Aramis' mood, which had been subdued, began to soar.

"It's about time Treville let me off the leash. I swear I was going mad waiting here while you were on duty."

"He could hardly have you guardin' the Duke," Porthos said.

"No, I suppose not, but there are other duties I could have undertaken."

"It has given you a chance to fully heal from your injuries," Athos reminded him.

"And almost die of boredom."

"I don't think this mission will be boring," d'Artagnan said. "Whoever is after you will see it as a perfect chance to kill you."

"Attempt to kill me," Aramis chided. "Well, we must make sure they know we are leaving Paris. I'm tired of waiting for them to attack me."

"You have a plan?" Athos asked.

Aramis smiled.

TMTMTM

"Vezelay," Aramis said, his slurred voice carrying over the noise in the tavern. Anyone watching would have seen him apparently applying himself diligently to several bottles of wine. In reality he had drunk very little and was entirely sober.

"Keep your voice down," Athos admonished him. "It's supposed to be a secret mission." He also spoke loudly enough for his words to be heard by those sitting at the surrounding tables. He was considerably more inebriated but years of practice meant that he could hide it well.

"I'd rather stay in Paris," Aramis added. "At least here there's some excitement."

"We have no choice other than to follow our orders." D'Artagnan poured more wine for everyone.

Aramis was aware that they were the focus of much scrutiny. The tavern they had chosen wasn't one of their usual haunts and their presence had provoked some unease amongst the patrons. They were all on high alert in case of an attack. So far the mood had been tense but not threatening.

Porthos leaned forward. "Two tables over. Man there is lookin' real interested in what we're sayin'"

"Let's hope they take the bait," Athos said softly. "We leave at dawn," The volume of his voice raised again. "We should get some sleep."

D'Artagnan slouched back in his chair, his gaze roaming around the room. "Our friend just left," he said before draining his glass.

"They will lay an ambush." Athos picked up his hat and gloves. "Are you sure this is wise?"

"They won't stop. I'd rather face them in the open than in an alley."

"Fair enough. Well, gentlemen, I suggest we call it a night. Tomorrow should bring things to a head."

TMTMTM

Raymond sat alone drinking a cup of ale. The last week had been hard on his nerves while he waited for news. The coward, Aramis, hadn't left the garrison although his friends had come and gone as usual. He was frustrated and angry. His meagre supply of coin was rapidly diminishing and he would soon have to make the decision to return to his village.

Bastien Hebert and his men tolerated him and he, in turn, despised them. They were thugs and bullies, making the lives of those who inhabited this quarter even more miserable. Once he had been part of a crusade to make France a better place. Now he was reduced to this.

He sipped the sour ale, almost wishing that he had never embarked on this quest for revenge. Emilie had been a fraud but, for all that, it had been glorious to be a part of her inner circle of trusted confidantes. He had been respected for the first time in his life. Then the Musketeer had come and it had all changed.

His wavering resolve strengthened when he saw one of Hebert's men pushing his way through the crowd. He got up and walked over to Hebert's table.

"The Musketeers are leaving Paris. They travel to Vezelay."

That provoked a blank look from Hebert. "Where's Vezelay?"

"It lies to the south," Raymond said. "My village is twenty lieues away from it."

"Then you know the way?"

"Better than that. I know the perfect place to ambush them. They will have to travel through the forest of Fontainebleau. Gather your men. We must leave at once if we are to be ready for them."

Tbc


	13. Chapter 13

This is the final chapter and I hope the confrontation with Raymond and the other conspirators doesn't disappoint. Thank you for reading and for all the lovely reviews. They really do encourage me to keep writing.

**Hunter's Moon**

**Chapter Thirteen**

It was mid-morning when they reached the outskirts of the forest of Fontainebleau. This was the most likely place for an ambush so they all took a moment to check their weapons. The path was too narrow for them to ride four abreast. Athos and Porthos took the lead with Aramis behind them and d'Artagnan at the rear.

"They are likely to rely on weight of numbers," Athos warned.

"We have faced overwhelming odds before and prevailed," Aramis responded.

"Remember that you are the target. Our job is to protect you."

"Your job, my dear Athos, is to survive."

The first shot whistled past Aramis' nose, so close that he felt the wind of its passing. He immediately dismounted on the far side of his horse which, in the event availed him nothing. Another shot rang out from his opposite side, this one gouging a furrow along his side. He gasped in pained surprise and returned fire. He crouched down to present a smaller target, looking between the trees for signs of their attackers.

With a yell, men erupted from cover and swarmed towards the Musketeers. Aramis found himself facing two foes, neither of whom he recognised. Although they carried swords they were clearly unskilled, relying on brute strength to overcome his resistance. He settled into his fighting rhythm, slicing viciously across the chest of one and skewering the other on his backswing.

There was no respite and no time to look to see how his brothers fared. Two more opponents closed on him, one armed with a knife and the other with a heavy cudgel. He ducked under a blow that would have crushed his skull, sidestepped and reached for his main gauche. The men approached him from either side, forcing him to move backwards to keep both of them in view.

"Aramis! Behind you."

He heard d'Artagnan's frantic warning, pivoting to bury his knife in the stomach of a large man who immediately staggered backwards. Before he had time to react the cudgel caught his left shoulder, rendering his arm temporarily numb and useless. He lashed out with his sword, rewarded by a grunt of pain. His opponent stood looking in surprise at the slash running diagonally from his right shoulder to his left hip. The man tumbled to his knees and then to his back, sightless eyes staring at the sky.

Aramis saw that the man with the knife was now engaged in a death match with Porthos, giving him the grace of a few seconds to look around. All his brothers were still standing, none looking to be injured. Bodies littered the path, some moaning pitifully while others lay still. His respite was short lived when he found himself facing a dark skinned man that, to his surprise, he knew.

"Raymond?"

"You just won't die, will you?" Raymond spat. He circled round to Aramis' right, his sword extended.

Aramis matched his movements, the pieces finally falling into place. "You're the one who has been trying to kill me. Why?" He stepped back quickly to avoid Raymond's lunge.

"I should have killed you that first night," Raymond said, breathing heavily. "Would have too if Emilie hadn't saved you."

"She was a good woman, despite her delusions. She genuinely believed in her calling." He feinted to the left and then moved right, inflicting a superficial wound on Raymond's right arm.

"Then why did you betray her?"

"It was my job to stop her. If she had continued preaching her war against Spain the King would have sent in the Red Guard and you would all have been slaughtered."

"We would have prevailed." Raymond tried again to get past Aramis' guard, his face showing his frustration when he failed.

The sounds of battle had diminished and Aramis saw out of the corner of his eye that Athos was waiting close by, ready to intervene if necessary.

"Give up now," Athos said. "Your friends are defeated. If you continue to fight you must know that Aramis will kill you."

"They weren't my friends. We just had a common goal."

"Athos is right," Aramis said. "Throw down your sword." From the desperation on Raymond's face he knew that a voluntary surrender wasn't an option.

"You took away our faith," Raymond said.

Aramis inclined his head in acknowledgment. "It was a false faith that had turned you into monsters. You, as I recall, were willing to kill the Queen simply because she is Spanish."

"She is a traitor to France. Emilie should have taken her head and sent it as a present to the King."

"You think that would have endeared you to him?" Aramis began to move slowly, his feet graceful and precise. This man had been prepared to kill the woman he loved…the mother of his child. For that he deserved no mercy.

Aramis attacked in earnest for the first time, his sword piercing Raymond's shoulder. After parrying in desperation Raymond began to retreat. Aramis prowled after him, a fierce smile on his face. He had no doubt that his opponent saw only death in his eyes. He could have fought to disarm Raymond but the memory of the fear on Anne's face when she was hauled in front of Emilie spurred him on. He increased the speed of his attack forcing Raymond into ever more clumsy attempts to parry his blows.

"You don't 'ave to kill him," Porthos said.

The sound of his friend's voice brought Aramis back to himself and he hesitated, realising with horror that he had been on the point of committing murder. He engaged Raymond's blade with a circular motion which his opponent couldn't hope to match. Raymond's sword flew from his hand as Aramis stepped forward, his sword pointed unwaveringly at his enemy's throat.

"Yield," Aramis said.

With a hand clasped over his shoulder wound, Raymond had no choice other than to surrender. Aramis turned to his brothers and saw identical looks of relief on their faces.

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan was despatched to the chateau to fetch guards to take charge of their prisoners. They rounded up the men who were still breathing and left them under Porthos' watchful eye. Of the fourteen who had attacked them only four, including Raymond, were still alive. Porthos recognised one of them as Hebert and strode forward to pull him up by his shirt.

"You're finished," Porthos growled. "Attackin' a Musketeer is a capital offence and I'm goin' to enjoy watchin' you swing."

"Don't be so sure of that," Hebert said, wincing as Porthos' rough handling aggravated his leg wound. "I have a lot of friends."

"Well the Duke of Savoy isn't your friend." Porthos pushed him back to the ground. "He doesn't forgive failure."

Hebert began to laugh. "Maybe he doesn't, but he ain't getting his gold back and Savoy's a long way from Paris."

Aramis gave a sharp hiss as Athos gently washed the wound in his side. Apart from some scratches and a few bruises they had emerged from the battle relatively unscathed. The feeling was returning to his left arm accompanied by painful tingling in his muscles.

"Do you think the Duke will give up?" Athos asked, pulling a roll of bandages from his saddlebags.

"I don't know. He will be returning to Savoy soon. Let us hope that he has other matters to occupy his mind. He failed to wring any further concessions from Louis which means he will be leaning toward Spain. And, despite the fact that Emilie was proved to be a false prophet, I think that war with Spain cannot be long delayed." He glanced over to where Raymond sat with the other prisoners. "I can understand his disappointment. She was a gifted orator and the people believed in her visions."

"She was a danger to the country. You did well to stop her."

"I still harbour some guilt for stripping away her god."

"If her faith remains strong she will find her way back to him."

"I hope you are right."

"How do you feel?"

Aramis knew that Athos was not asking about his physical well-being. "More at peace now that I have let the Duke know he didn't entirely succeed. The memory will never disappear but I feel that my brothers will rest easier now."

Athos tied off the bandages and stood up. "D'Artagnan should be back soon. Are you fit to continue our journey?"

"I will manage."

"So, it appears your would-be assassins have been vanquished."

"Thanks to my brothers."

"We will always be here to guard your back."

Aramis rose to his feet. He grimaced as he put his coat back on, the movement pulling the tender skin in his side. "That is what sustains me." He raised his face to the sun. "It is a glorious day and a new mission awaits us."

"One, I hope, with a little less drama."

"We simply have to escort the Princess to Paris. What could possibly go wrong?"

The End


End file.
